


Five on the Devil's Tail

by LaLaLacey



Category: Famous Five - Enid Blyton
Genre: Adventure, Devils, Misgendering, Multi, Mystery, Non-binary George, Wales, Wholesome, deadnaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLaLacey/pseuds/LaLaLacey
Summary: The Five are spending their summer holidays in Wales, in a small, secluded village named Pontarfynach. But there's more to this village than long walks and beautiful scenery. Two local children have gone missing, Emrys and Eirwen Mackay. And then there's the story of Devil's Bridge, the local landmark after which the village is named. But when Eirwen turns up without Emrys, they soon find themselves embroiled in another mystery, on the trail of a local spectre. Who is the Devil? And what do they intend to do to with Eirwen's brother?
Relationships: George/OriginalFemaleCharacter, Julian/OriginalFemaleCharater
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Famous Five, but it was written a long time ago so there are a lot of things that annoy me about the writing. It's time for some updates! I always imagined meeting the Five, and asking Julian where he gets off telling George they can't come along on the dangerous parts of their adventures. I grew up in a wonderful setting, so I'm using it here. I want to stay as true to the format of the books as possible so we start during Anne and George's journey back home for the summer holidays, which just keeps going wrong. I know this is probably quite a niche fandom, but I hope anyone who finds this likes it!

The train station was a lot more crowded than usual; George and Anne had been delayed behind a large group of young girls on a school trip, and had to run to catch their train in time.

“Phew!” said George, settling into their seat. “We made it!”

“Only just.” said Anne, shakily. She was still feeling a little anxious from the ordeal.

They took a moment to catch their breath, but by the time the train had left the station were chatting away merrily again.

“I can’t wait to get home. I do miss Timmy so, I hope mother and father have been taking him on plenty of walks!” 

“I’m sure Aunt Fanny’s taken very good care of Timmy, George; she loves him, you know. How can she do anything but, after he’s gotten us out of so many scrapes?”

“I suppose. Really, I knew she would be fine. It’s father I worry about. Mother put her foot down and insisted he take him out every evening. She said she hadn’t the time to be taking him out twice a day, and besides, he could do with the exercise. But I know what father’s like; he’s sure to have neglected his duties for his research. I know it’s important to him, but you’d think that he’d ease off a bit after the last big discovery and take some time for himself.” 

Anne nodded in agreement and began to unpack their lunch. The train continued chugging merrily along as George shared more of their worries with their cousin.

“Besides, it’s not like there’s a lot to be done in his field right now! Ms Henbridge said last week that things had ground to a halt as everyone is focusing on his last study, and he’s done everything he wants to with it!”

“I wonder how he comes up with new things so quickly?” pondered Anne, softly. She was the top of her class in science and couldn’t wait to begin the next term’s curriculum. She hadn’t been taught by Ms Henbridge yet, but everything George said about her sounded wonderful. 

“I have no idea! You’d have to ask him, I suppose.”

“Oh no, I could never do that! He’s so intimidating, I’m shaking just thinking about it!”

She really was. George shook their head in kind.

“Oh, Anne, don’t be so silly! You’re by far his favourite, you know you are. He’s only really intimidating to me, and that’s because I’m his own child! Say, when does the train get into Kirrin again?”

Anne sighed. She was as anxious to get the journey over and the holidays begun as George was. “Five o’clock. And it’s only half past one now. I’m sure the journey gets longer every time we take it!”

“It’s so unfair that Dick and Julian have been home a week already. A fire in the kitchen is one thing, but closing for an entire week because of it? I’m just glad it’s summer so they have plenty of time to re-build, or I should have to be jealous of them for much longer.” Said George, a touch snootily. Fires never happened at their school, no matter how many drills they did. It almost made them wish they’d chosen to go with the boys after all, but Anne would have been all alone otherwise. 

Plus, Anne’s school allowed pets. That is, it had up until last term when one of the girls had set them all loose as a joke. It was clear that she hadn’t considered most animals not getting along; chaos had reigned for almost two full days until all the animals had been rounded up. 

George would swear up and down that Timmy had been a perfect angel and stayed in his kennel the entire time, but Anne knew better. As did the rest of the school. Timmy had been seen by several eyewitnesses gleefully chasing Dierdre Jenkin’s cat up three flights of stairs, almost jumping out of a third-floor window in his attempts to follow the poor thing up onto the roof. It had taken the better part of an afternoon and several fire-marshals to get her down. 

George denied this, of course. “The silly thing must have been trying to catch a bird!” they would say to anyone who would listen.

It had been awful having to leave Timmy behind after the Easter holiday; he truly didn’t understand why George had to leave him, and George had almost refused to go altogether. But they did so love school and would miss all their friends. So, Timmy had been left at Kirrin Cottage, with George’s parent’s under oath to walk him twice a day and kiss him every night for them. 

As they journeyed on, first talking as they ate, then moving on to games of cards and eventually settling into reading and staring out of the window at the countryside rushing by, George jiggled their leg in anticipation.

It was the longest they’d ever gone without seeing Timmy, and they just knew he’d be confused at seeing Dick and Julian before seeing George. Oh, they so hoped that he had missed them as much as they had missed him!

The train was still several stops away from Kirrin Station when it ground to halt. The conductor made her way through the carriages, informing everyone that due to a landslide on the tracks, they would be forced to return to the previous station and would all have to make further travel arrangements from there.

George groaned loudly as the train slowly started to make its way back along the track. It really was too bad! They were already planning how long the walk home would take, because there was no earthly way they were going to wait another night to see Timmy!

“We’ll have to phone Aunt Fanny to let her know. I don’t suppose they could bring the cart to collect us from so far away today. How much money do you have left, George?” Anne asked, already trying to make a plan. “We might be able to find room and board for the night. What was the village called?”

“Grainage.” George replied, glumly. “Not much to speak of there, but they do have a campsite. Hey, could we buy a tent, do you suppose?” their eyes lit up. “I still have some of my birthday money, and my old tent is starting to get worn down. If we got a tent, we could camp over-night and walk home!”

“I don’t know,” said Anne, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “It’s not like we haven’t done anything like it before. But we have all of our suitcases to think about, how would we carry them?”

“Let’s see if the camp has a shop first. Maybe we can send our things on ahead, on a cart travelling to Kirrin overnight or something!”

“George, if we do that we may as well take the cart. I know you’re anxious to get home and see Timmy, but we won’t get back any sooner by rushing of on a hike right now. We could only walk for an hour or two before we’d have to set up camp, and there’s food to consider. Now, you buy a tent if you like, but I vote we stay in Grainage overnight and make a plan with Julian for him and Dick to come and collect us tomorrow. Sorry, George; I know it won’t be the adventure you want, but it’ll be a sort of adventure, all the same.” Anne added, trying to console her cousin.

George was not consoled, and although they desperately wanted to argue, they knew that Anne was right. She often was about this sort of thing. 

They sighed. “Okay, Anne, have it your way. It’s probably for the best; you have your walking shoes because you knew you’d be with us at Kirrin this summer, but I didn’t bring mine. Mother would be so cross if I ruined my school shoes again.”

Anne relaxed. She loved her cousin, but they had their father’s temper. Anne was always filled with nervous awe every time she thought of how powerful and strong-willed George would be as a grown-up. Far more intimidating than Uncle Quentin, that was for sure! She hoped she would be less fearful when she was a grown-up, but she doubted it.

By this time, the train had reached Grainage. The conversation was paused as alighted onto the platform and waited for the porter to unload their luggage.

“I’m glad you’ve seen some sense, George. We’ll have plenty of time to go traipsing about all over the countryside this summer. Don’t be too much in a hurry to start now, when we’re completely unprepared!”

“Gosh, Anne, you’re really starting to sound like a grown-up these days!” George giggled.

“Am I?” Anne asked, gleefully.

“You are. Please don’t really start acting like one and suck all the fun out of our adventures this summer! Do you think we’ll have another big one?” George was excited. Out of all of them, except perhaps Timmy, George was the one who enjoyed their adventures the most.

Anne, who tended to enjoy them the least, laughed. “I’m sure we will, no matter how many times I wish we won’t. It is fun to tell them afterwards, but I don’t like them one bit while they’re happening. Here’s our luggage! Gosh, I’m sure there was a lot less when we got on the train!”

“We didn’t have to carry it all then. Buck up, Anne! We’ll ask around for directions to a bed and breakfast or something. I’m sure it won’t be far.”

They asked several people on the platform, but no one seemed to know the village at all. After the fourth person they asked shook their head in apology, Anne had a sudden thought.

“Aren’t we silly, George! Anyone who had intended to be here must have gotten off the train when it stopped here earlier and will be long gone now! Come on dear, we’ll have to poke around outside and ask.”

They managed to get their luggage in hand, and laboriously carried it all out onto a small, empty dirt track leading towards Grainage.

“Goodness!” said Anne. “I didn’t think it would be so far away from the station!”

“Small villages like this always are.” sighed George. “We’ll just have to get on with it. After all of this is over, I shall burn my trunk and buy a nice big rucksack to transport my clothes instead!”

“You can’t do that; they’ll get all creased!” 

“What are irons for? Mother has one, the school has one. I’m forced to iron them all anyway, they might as well be easy to transport! I just know I’ll have blisters the size of a tennis ball by the time we reach the village!” cried George, dramatically.

“Why don’t we try this?” Anne reached into her pocket and withdrew her cleanest handkerchief. She wrapped it tightly around her palm and motioned for George to tie it on firmly.

“There, see! No blisters. Give me your handkerchief, George, I’ll do yours too.”

She did, and lifting their trunks became a little less painful.

“Nice idea! Wish I’d thought of it.”

Anne beamed proudly but didn’t reply. In fact, neither of them spoke much for the next ten minutes, as they huffed and puffed their way closer to Grainage. People from the train, also anxious to find a bed for the night and with far less to carry started to overtake them.

“Come on, Anne, do hurry! We don’t want to get left behind and stuck without anywhere to stay.”

“I’m trying my best, George! Unless you want to carry both trunks, I’m afraid this is as fast as I can go.” Anne was finding herself getting closer and closer to tears now, the day had been so overwhelming already.

“Don’t be such a crybaby!” George snapped at her, immediately regretting it. She tried to count to ten like her teachers suggested. Anne tried not to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I just meant that it won’t solve anything to cry now. We can both have a good cry later when we’ve sorted ourselves out, okay?”

“Okay.” sniffed Anne, quiet but less panicked than before. 

“Come one, we can do this! See, it’s not far now.”

They took a quick pause to stretch out their aching limbs, set their shoulders, and continued towards the village.


	2. Chapter 2

Julian, Dick, and Timothy had spent the day in anxious anticipation. The unexpected week off school had been very exciting, and well deserved, but there wasn’t much worth doing in Kirrin without George and Anne. They were ready to begin the holidays properly! 

Timmy had been the most anxious of all; he knew that George would be coming home today. George! The best human a dog could ask for! Timmy liked Dick and Julian well enough, and they were certainly an improvement on George’s Father. He was just plain grumpy, and walks with him tended to end quickly and stiffly with no running about having fun. George’s Mother was kind and let him off the lead, but walked at far too leisurely a pace and was too gentle to really play games with properly.

But Dick and Julian, although fun to play games with and chase through the sand dunes in Kirrin Bay, would never hold a candle to his George. He had missed them so very much, and they would be home today!

“Look at Timmy, Julian! He’s got three paws up on top of the gate now, not just his front two. Timmy, you are a riot!” The boys laughed at poor Timmy, who’d been waiting at the gate all day.

“He must know George is coming home today, don’t ask me how! He really is a clever old thing. Hi! Timmy! Get down from there, before Uncle Quentin catches you. You can come with us to fetch Anne and George, but we won’t need to head out for a while yet.” promised Julian.

Timmy’s ears pricked up at the sound of George’s name, and he turned his head towards the older boy expectantly. He took his back paw off the gate for balance but kept his front two locked firmly in place. If anyone was going to be fetching George, it was him!

The afternoon wore on, and the boys tried to pass the time by doing some garden chores for their Aunt Fanny. It was nice to be outside in the hot sun, and though some of the work involved heavy lifting it felt good to be moving their bodies. It had been a long, hard term with lots of difficult exams and tests, and neither of them had gotten to spend much time playing any sports. 

They’d spent the better part of their week outside. They couldn’t go to Kirrin Island - the Island George’s family owned which really belonged to George - because George was the only one who knew the route through the treacherous rocks. One or two of the local fishermen also knew the way, but they were busy at this time of year and had no time to be ferrying two teenage boys and an excitable dog back and forth to a deserted island.

Instead, they’d been on lots of walks, and had spent three days hiking down the coast and camping. Timmy, who was still confused that Dick and Julian where there without George or Anne when they began, had settled back into his usual self by the time the trip was over. When the boys had first gotten to Kirrin he’d been very quiet, and although he did perk up a little at seeing them, it was nothing like the greeting they usually got. They didn’t know how he’d cope come the end of summer when George would have to leave him again; they half expected George would find a way to sneak him off to school regardless. They were sure George had had as bad a time as poor Timmy had. They might choose to change schools if they didn’t let pets back in the new term, and that would be awful for poor Anne; she did so love having an older cousin to talk to, someone who had shared in the adventures everyone else would think she was lying about.

But, as Dick put it: “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

Julian was almost more excited for Timmy to see George than he was to see his baby sister and cousin, which is why he allowed Timmy to sit up front with himself and Dick when they finally had the horse and cart ready and were on their way.

He regretted it straight away; there wasn’t much space on the bench, and Timmy made things awfully warm with the afternoon sun beating down on them. Thankfully they’d remembered their hats, but it was still dreadfully hot. They were keeping four bottles of ginger beer cool for the ride back under a blanket in the back of the cart, but had little hope that they’d remain that way.

It wasn’t a long journey, only about a mile and a half, so they got there in good time. They sat outside the station to wait for the five o’clock train.

Twenty minutes passed. They talked about school, and Dick told Julian about the time he and Jackson Moorseby had traversed the climbing wall in the gymnasium in record time. Julian had been absent because Dick and Jason had attempted the climb at midnight, so there was no official record of it. Dick was trying to convince Julian that Jason had timed his climb perfectly with his watch when he was reminded to check his own.

“Say, what’s taking them so long? The train ought to have gotten in five minutes ago.”

“That’s odd, I was sure George would rush out as soon as possible – yes, Timmy, George will be here soon! Please do get off my lap, you are such a heavy dog!” Dick pushed Timmy with some difficulty off himself as he continued. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I heard the train come in. Did you, Ju?”

“Come to think of it, neither did I. Wait here a moment, Dick; I’ll go ask inside.”

Julian swung down off the cart and handed the reigns to Dick. 

“Come on Timmy! Let’s go see where George has gotten to, shall we?”

Timmy climbed over a protesting Dick and jumped down off the cart, wagging his tail and smiling in that way that dogs do when they’re excited. He jumped up at Julian and rushed of towards the station entrance; he knew exactly why they were here!

Dick watched as Julian followed Timmy into the station, a little uneasily. He couldn’t help worrying that something terrible had gone wrong; he hoped Anne was alright. She was such a gentle little sister to have, he hoped nothing had happened to her. And good old George. Timmy would never recover if something had happened to George.

He shook his head to clear it of some of the worst thoughts entering his mind, and spotted Julian leaving the station shaking his own head, followed shortly by a very confused Timmy. He kept looking at Julian and then back at the station, as if to say, “I’ll follow you, but you do know you’re going the wrong way, right?”.

“Apparently there’s been a rockslide on the track,” Dick’s heart skipped a beat “so they had to turn back. They should be stranded in a little village called Grainage.”

“Should we go and meet them?” asked Dick, feeling his heartbeat stabilise.

“Not tonight; the manager told me it’s a two-hour train journey away. It will take us several hours by cart. We wouldn’t get there until dark, and that’s not even considering the journey back. No, we’ll have to head back to Kirrin Cottage and hope they called Aunt Fanny. I expect they’ll have found somewhere to stay for the night. We’ll head out first thing in the morning. Come on, Timmy! Up!”

Timmy looked up at him, his head cocked. No George? How could they be leaving without George? 

“I know, old boy, but there’s nothing more we can do. We’ll see them tomorrow, okay?” said Julian, trying to comfort the poor dog. He did look so forlorn when he was confused.

But Timothy refused to budge, so he got down off the cart again and said to Dick “you go on ahead, I’ll walk with Timmy. Once he sees we’re heading back home he’s sure to follow us.”

He patted Timmy on the head and waited for Dick to turn the cart around. He was a little out of practice though, and ended up with one of the wheels caught in the ditch at the side of the narrow road. 

Julian ran to his aid, leaving Timmy looking forlornly back at the train station.

It took several minutes and a lot of hot, heavy work to get the cart back on track. The boys thoroughly congratulated themselves afterwards and decided to reward themselves with a bottle of ginger each. They were just settling down on the bank to enjoy the lukewarm treat when Dick looked back over at the station and saw… nothing.

Timmy had gone.

“Hi, Julian. Where did you leave Timmy?”

“Exactly where he was when you moved off in the cart.” replied Julian, standing up in concern. He looked around. “I can’t see him anywhere! Timmy! TIMMY!”

Dick joined him, calling out for Timmy. But he didn’t come, which was odd because Timmy was a very well-trained dog and usually very well behaved.

“I’ll go see if the station manager saw him run off. For goodness’ sake, this is the last thing we needed today!” and Julian went back into the station once more, followed closely by Dick.

“Hello again, sir! I was wondering if you had seen the dog I was with earlier, he seems to have run off and won’t come when we call him.”

“Oh, that is a shame. No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” Julian’s face fell. “He might have slipped by me; I have rare cause to look down when I’m at my desk.” The manager added hurriedly. He’d lost a dog once. “If I were allowed, I’d help you look for him. What does he look like?”

Julian described Timmy, and then had an idea. “Is there any chance he could have hopped off the platform and onto the tracks?”

“I’m sure he might have, lad. It’s been known to happen. But I wouldn’t worry too much, there’s no more trains coming today.”

Dick had caught on to what Julian was thinking. “What do you think, Ju? He’s been known to do stranger and more dangerous things where George is involved.”

“I think that’s exactly what’s happened. I’ll bet my hat he’s a half-mile down the track already. It’s a good thing this is the last stop, or he might have wondered off in the wrong direction! He’s smart, but not that smart.”

The station manager was looking a bit confused by this, as he had assumed one of the boys in front of him was the dog’s owner. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m sure he’ll come back when he’s hungry. Dogs are awfully good at finding their way home, I’ve found! Give me your telephone and I’ll let you know if I see him.”

Julian did, thanking the man politely for his help.

“Should we hop down and see if we can’t catch up with him?” asked Dick, looking over onto the tracks.

“Absolutely not, lad! There’s a fine for getting caught on the tracks, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I turned a blind eye. Be off with you now, I’ve got to close. I reckon he’ll be home before you will at this rate!”

The boys obeyed and headed outside again. As they clambered dejectedly back up onto the cart, Julian had a sudden thought. He reached into the back of the cart and grabbed another bottle. 

“I’m sure George and Anne won’t mind!” He called over his shoulder at Dick as he jogged back up to the station entrance.

“Thank you so much again, I hope this makes close a little nicer for you.” He grinned as he placed the bottle on the managers desk and ran back outside again.

“Gosh, I hope Timmy does come home soon!” said Dick once Julian was on the cart again. “I’m sure he will, he knows the way. But what if he stays out all night looking for George? I can’t imagine he’ll know which station to stop at!”

“I hope so too. I don’t want to be the one to tell George we lost Timmy the day before they got home! They’ll never forgive us. He’s sensible enough; if he’s not home by the time we head off tomorrow morning we’ll get Uncle Quentin to call out a search, and he’ll surely be home by the time we get back with George and Anne! Come on Dick, let’s get back. I’m sure Aunt Fanny will have heard from them by now.”

Back inside the station, the manager was looking at the bottle of ginger beer in polite surprise. He opened the bottle and took a sip. It was a little warm for his liking, but very tasty nonetheless. He glanced out the window at the now retreating cart.

“What kind boys!” he said aloud. “I hope that dog of theirs gets home alright!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter delves a little bit into George's relationship with gender, and contains deadnaming. I'm trying to steer clear of mis-gendering unless it's relevent to the plot or the shittiness/naivety of the character, at least in the narrative text. But I'm not non-binary; most of my understanding comes from conversations with very understanding and forgiving friends, and queer literature. I've learned that there are many ways to experience being non-binary, and I hope that this is a good portrayal of at least one of those. In my head George never fit into either gender, and it would be a disservice to try and represent them as they are in the book, as much as I identified with them enjoying "boyish" things. I was a gown and sword kind of person. George is a sword kind of person. Gender is a construct. Let me know if I could be doing better! x

“What did Aunt Fanny say, George?” Anne asked, settling comfortably into the armchair closest to the fire.

“She said she’d send Dick, Julian, and Timmy to get us first thing tomorrow. I do wish we were home already, Anne.” they said, gloomily. There was a perfectly good chair right opposite Anne’s, but George decided instead to sprawl themself out on the floor, legs stretched and back arched in a most graceless fashion.

“Me too.” Anne agreed. “But the family here do seem awfully nice.”

“Well I think it’s all rather odd. Didn’t you notice how there were so many people ready and willing to host us poor weary travellers for the night? They can’t all have had the fires in their spare rooms already lit, but so many of them seemed to. I think it’s all a bit suspicious.”

“Oh, do shut up George! I’m not in the mood for your suspicions, just count your blessings we have a bed to sleep in tonight. We very well might not have done, and it’s terribly ungrateful of you to be casting aspersions!” 

It was as riled up and cross as Anne ever got, so George dropped it. “Fine.” They said. “But I wish I had Timmy with me. He’d certainly know if something was up!”

If Timmy had been with them, he would indeed have noticed the sly glances several of the villagers had shot one another from their doorways as they each welcomed a stranded traveller into their homes. 

But Timmy was not with them. Timmy was, as Dick and Julian had suspected, making his way doggedly along the train tracks, sniffing for any smells that might lead him to George. George! Who hadn’t been at the station when he’d gone to collect them!

Timmy had been promised that he could fetch George, so fetch George he most certainly would! He had slipped back through the station door and right under the managers nose when the boys weren’t looking. He’d been on enough trains himself by now to know that they moved along the long metal snakes on the ground, so he jumped off the platform onto the tracks. 

He gave a sniff. Nothing. 

Smells weren’t going to help him, then; he would just have to follow the metal snakes until he smelled George. 

He set off with thoughts of George running through his mind. Walks! Playing fetch! Sleeping on their bed again, like they always let him when they were home. It was all so exciting! He let his feet carry him, veering away from the tracks only to find a water source or to chase a rabbit or two. He hoped George never found out about the rabbits, they got so cross with him whenever he chased them on their walks. 

And so he continued on, following the tracks to station after station, until he came to a section of track that was entirely covered by rock.

Timmy lifted his nose, contemplating a sudden smell that he hadn’t come across anywhere except the stations. It was the hot, earthy, sweaty smell of people; long gone, by his estimation. He ignored the rest of the tracks for a moment, lowering his snout to the rocks and following the scent up the little cliff that overlooked the tracks. 

The rocks were a little loose, so he had to scramble uncertainly several times to stay on track and keep his footing steady. Eventually, he clambered up and over onto the overhang. There! He investigated a little closer.

It was a boot-print. Packed into the dry, loose dirt, the toe was significantly deeper and more compact than the heel, which was raised on a small mound of dirt as if the maker had been pushing something heavy. 

The smell was less strong now; the wind had blown it away. He nuzzled at the print but found nothing more of interest. 

Curiosity satisfied, he began to make his way back down the rockslide and onto the track. When he was half-way down the wind changed, and he caught the briefest sniff of the most familiar smell in the entire world. He barked once and jumped up in excitement. It was too much for the pile of rocks, which could barely hold a dog of Timothy’s weight spread out on four paws. He felt a sudden tug as the stones beneath him fell away, simultaneously pulling him down and sucking him under, with barely enough time to yelp in surprise.

Back in their room, Anne shivered despite the fire. She put down her book, and said to George:

“You know, I really hope the boys are alright. It would be just like them to have the same idea you did, George, and try to hike to us.” She worried at her lip, nibbling on a piece of dead skin distractedly.

“Silly Anne! You know Julian is far more sensible than that.”

“Not by much! He’s only really sensible if you count him against you and Dick.”

“And I suppose you’re the most sensible of all of us!”

“You know I am, George!” Anne had to laugh. It was true, even George had to admit it; she really was. If Anne were in charge, no one would ever get into scrapes.

On the other hand, if they did get into a scrape, she might panic. She always buckled down and did what was needed, but she wouldn’t be much good in charge. And she was too trusting by far. George still hadn’t been able to shake the suspicion that there was something wrong with this village. They hadn’t seen a single child on their way in, except for one or two who’d been on the same train as them. 

It was all very odd, and Anne was refusing to look the mystery in the face, as usual. She might be more sensible, but she was certainly more boring!

George huffed. They didn’t like it when their instincts went haywire and no one trusted their word. It happened all too often, and really was too bad! 

I’ll show her not to believe me, they resolved. I’ll stay up tonight and keep a look out; she’ll be sorry when I wake her in the middle of the night and tell her to call the police!

They thought all of this very stoically, but deep down they hoped that they wouldn’t have to wake Anne. As much as they threw themselves into adventure, and as wonderful as it felt afterwards to have solved it and gotten away (mostly) unscathed, it was always very… concerning? Yes, concerning when they were stuck in the middle of one. The worst part was the beginning, when they had no clues but knew they were in trouble.

Perhaps Anne was right to push thoughts of mystery aside and focus on other things. It was understandable, really. And perhaps George was being too quick to jump to conclusions. Seeing mystery and intrigue everywhere could be healthy, could it? But maybe there really was mystery and intrigue everywhere, and they were just really good at seeing it for what it was?

“Oh, do stop brooding, Georgina!” Anne snapped, having lost her patience for the second time in one night.

George looked as though they’d been slapped across the face. Anne gasped, realising too late what she’d said.

“George! Oh, my dear George, I’m sorry! I – I just, I’m – “

“Don’t bother, Anthony.” George said, as cruelly as they could. It wasn’t the most inventive dig, but it was effective enough under the circumstances. “I’m going to bed. Turn the lights out when you’re done.”

And with that, they crawled into bed, fully clothed and fuming. It had taken years to convince their parents and teachers to refer to them exclusively as George. Although their parents understood the basic premise of shirking off gender and living in the between-and-nowhere zone, they didn’t understand why their given name wasn’t good enough.

“Really, Georgi- alright, George then! I really don’t see why your mother and I can’t use the name we gave to you, especially as it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference!”

But it did make a difference; Georgina was a little “girl”, forced to wear dresses and stay inside the gated garden, playing carefully with dolls. The moment they’d cut their hair and started calling themselves George, people couldn’t help believing they were a “boy”. They got away with a lot more things that they loved doing when they were dressed boyishly, but they knew that they weren’t that either. Girls didn’t get to do anything fun, not really. They had to be polite. Boys got to do lots of fun things and were praised if they behaved politely. It was difficult to define, but when asked to choose – most notably when they were deciding which school to go to, and even then it was a choice between a girls’ school with plenty of “tomboys” or a boys’ school letting girls in for the first time - they could only honestly say “Neither.” It had been the pet policy that had swung it in the end.

Up until now, Anne and the others had usually understood. It felt like an absolute betrayal to be called Georgina by someone they thought would never.

Anne knew this and felt utterly wretched. She hadn’t been thinking, and in trying to sound like an adult had committed the worst crime an adult could against her cousin. If a teacher called them Georgina, that teacher would not be taken seriously ever again. If an adult relative used it, it was a week of shunned silence from a usually very friendly (if short-tempered) young teenager, and depending on the relative any number of extra weeks with nothing but a cool tone.. 

She sat despondently by the fire, trying not to bathe in the self-pity that was attempting to overwhelm her. I’ve done a bad thing, she thought to herself. And when you do bad things Anne, things that hurt the people you care about, you think about them. You must think about them long and hard and remind yourself why they’re bad. Once you’ve done that you must find a way to apologise and resolve never to do it again.

She knew very well why calling George by their given name was bad, so she found herself crawling into George’s bed far sooner than she really wanted to. As much as she wanted to hug them and weep in abject shame, she kept her distance for a moment. She took a deep, calming breath. An apology is not about me, she reminded herself.

“Hi, George. I really am sorry. I was trying so hard to sound like a grown up, and I ended up sounding like the worst kind of grown up. Today’s been so long, and I just – I just want to go home.” She choked back a small sob. Not about me, she repeated inside her head. “There is no excuse, but I promise I didn’t mean to. You’ve only ever been George to me. Loud, reckless, brave George. I’m sorry.” She said again, unsure how to finish.

Silence. She started nibbling at her lip again, her insides turning to a gelatinous mess of nerves. She was about to leave the bed, defeated but trying desperately to be understandingly defeated, when George turned over and gave their cousin a hard stare.

“Never call me that again, Anne.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She said, chastely. 

“Good, because if you do, I shan’t forgive you again.”

“I know.”

Good enough. They turned back over.

“It’s time for bed, Anne. Turn the light off and get some sleep.”

They meant it; they weren’t going to get any, so Anne might as well. She was clearly far more exhausted than George had thought. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to wake her at all.

George’s resolve was truly one of the strongest you’ll meet, but as soon as the lights went out, they found their eyelids drooping uncontrollably. They managed a full twenty minutes before collapsing into an exhausted and well-deserved sleep.

A mere hour later, the door to their room glided noiselessly open, joints freshly oiled for the occasion. 

Oh, if only if only they’d stayed awake!


	4. Chapter 4

Anne and George woke the next morning feeling refreshed. The spats and arguments of the day before seemed like dreams to the two young teenagers, and George practically leapt out of bed to give Anne a very rare and bony hug. Anne didn’t mind a bit, though; she was just so relieved to be forgiven! She knew one thing for sure; she would never, ever deadname George again. Not even by accident.

Fresh faced and firm friends once more, they dressed themselves and headed downstairs to see about breakfast, which their hosts, the March family, were graciously providing.

The March family consisted of Mr March, Mrs March, and their grown-up son, William, who was absent from the breakfast table.

Breakfast itself was un-spectacular: toast with butter but no jam, boiled eggs, and the most meagre slithers of ham, clearly the last of a leg. Neither of them cared a jot, they were so convinced the day would be a good one that they barely noticed that the bread was a little stale and the eggs rubbery.

“Well now, don’t you two look chipper this morning!” said Mrs March. “I trust you slept well?”

Anne and George responded enthusiastically. It really had felt like the best sleep of their lives!

“I’m pleased to hear it!” Here, Mrs March paused and looked to her husband. They looked as though they were communicating something to one another, in the way some couples can with a glance. George thought they caught a flash of something coarse in the look, but decided it was a trick of the light.

Mr March, who was a short, reedy looking man with thick-framed glasses and a weak chin which a thin beard he had attempted to cultivate was failing miserably to hide, spoke up.

“Now, girls –“

Not a girl, George thought. Anne squeezed their hand under the table, and they squeezed back gratefully. They wouldn’t have been able to sleep in the same room otherwise.

“We’ve had a spot of bad news, I’m afraid. William came over quite ill last night, and in order to stop it spreading I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to head out earlier than expected.”

“Oh my goodness,” said Anne, always quick to express her concern. “Is he alright?”

“If he stays in bed, he should be.” said Mrs March. George noted an almost cold lack of concern in her tone, which was odd, because Mrs March’s words had been laced with nothing but warmth for her son the evening before.

“The doctor came by early this morning.” Mr March continued. “It would seem that the illness is contagious. Matilda and I have probably already contracted it, but there might be some chance for you girls if you hurry away soon. Are you all packed?”

“Um, not quite!” Anne was a little thrown, but she put on a brave face. “Just a couple of things. We can be out of your hair in twenty minutes, I’d say! Right, George?”

George was downright suspicious, but it would have been terribly impolite to say so. They nodded. They both got up from the breakfast table and headed towards the stairs. Before they reached the door to the dining room, Anne turned back towards the couple.

“Is… is there anywhere we can go, you know, to wait for my brothers to arrive?”

Mr March responded almost dismissively, “I’m sure the train station will allow you to wait on the platform.”

Anne looked outside at a day which was growing increasingly greyer as the minutes wore on. She couldn’t quite tell, but she suspected a cool breeze would greet them the moment they stepped outside the house. But what else are cardigans for? She thought, bravely. She was quite prepared to shore up and manage what the day was bringing.

George was not so enthusiastic, however.

“Are you sure there’s not somewhere in the village? I’d rather not be carting my luggage about all day again, if I can help it.” They said this a little bluntly. Anne looked at her cousin in shock.

“I’m afraid not, dear.” The last word from Mrs March was very laboured, said through gritted teeth. 

“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of a bad situation, won’t we!” Anne’s nerves were starting to rise at the hostile atmosphere that was building between George and Mr and Mrs March. She grabbed George’s arm and tried to hurry them away.

“Come on, George! We don’t want to catch… whatever William’s got!”

“Quite right, missy.” Mr March said, in a tone which even Anne recognised as malicious. “Run along and get yourselves to a safe distance, there’s good girls.”

Anne’s skin crawled, but George was steady as an oak tree and would not be budged. Anne knew very well that George could never walk away from an argument or a situation they found undesirable. They had to confront it head on. She braced herself for whatever might come next, but was surprised when George simply turned contemptuously from the Marches and marched towards their room, Anne following limply behind.

The moment they got to their room, George exploded.

“What a horrid pair!” they seethed as they gathered the few things they’d removed from their luggage the night before. 

Anne feebly tried to break in. “George?”

“How rude, to treat guests like that! I don’t care if their son is ill, I’ll –“

“George!” Anne said, a little louder. “My… the clasp on my trunk is snapped. It wasn’t like that last night!” She was starting to sound panicked. 

“Are you sure, Anne?” George asked, coming over to take a look. “Those trunks went through about as much as we did yesterday!”

“Absolutely.” Her voice trembled. “I know because I locked my watch in it last night.”

Slowly, she opened the lid. Tears sprung to her eyes.

“Those slimy old toads!” George cried. “They’ve robbed us!”

Anne was too preoccupied to tell them to keep it down, and the damage was done. They heard heavy footsteps in the hall, and then William himself appeared in the doorway.

Last night, Anne had graciously entertained him as handsome; but in the light of day, his face was revealed to be pinched and unkind looking. Still handsome, but nasty with it. He didn’t look even remotely ill.

Anne tried to smile at him, but as soon as she did, she realised any attempt to sweeten the situation was hopeless. She realised that she was far more aware of the danger they might be in than George seemed to be, because at the sight of the March son they had forged on in a fit of righteous fury. Anne wondered if they’d forgotten that Timmy was twenty miles away in Kirrin and wouldn’t be able to defend them. She wished he were there, along with Dick and Julian!

“I suppose you were in on it too! How dare you!” George spat. “Give our things back this instant, or I shall call the police!”

“You’re in no position to be making threats, young lady.”

“I am NOT a lady!” George protested. They were panicking, and although their brain was focusing on the first part their mouth had decided to fight what it thought it could fight instead of what it should be fighting.

“I don’t care what you are, kid. Mother!” he called downstairs. “Bring up the key to the spare room, would you? We’ve got some loose ends to take care of.” As he said this, he smiled menacingly. Anne gulped. George just stared at him. “You should have stayed quiet, little girl.”

He advanced towards George, who wasn’t unused to this sort of thing when their assailants assumed they were a boy. This was the first who had threatened them so readily in the belief they were a girl, though, and it threw them. What kind of man was this? They had to protect Anne. The boys would never forgive them if they didn’t!

They waited until William was almost upon them. They widened their stance, readied their fists as if about to box and – Wham! They bent at the waist and rammed the top of their head hard into his abdomen.

“Not. A. Girl!”

He gave a horrible wheeze; Anne knew George must have hit him dead on the diaphragm because he bent over, spluttering and clearly winded. George looked ready to continue the fight, but Anne intervened.

“George! Run!” she shouted.

George moved. Dancing around William, they spit onto his bent form, grabbed Anne’s outstretched hand and raced with her down the stairs, narrowly avoiding a very surprised Mr March on his way out of the dining room to assist with the – hopefully now failed – kidnapping attempt.

They reached the front door in two seconds, but – oh no! One of the Marches must have locked it when they heard William shout!

George was desperately jiggling the door handle, but it was no use.

“Stand back, George!” Anne cried. She’d never tried it on a door before, but… well, there was a first time for everything!

She lifted her knee and shot her foot out towards the door. It wasn’t the best kick, and although it creaked and splintered, it didn’t open. She shook her head in despair and readied herself for another try.

“Wait!” said George, who would later be very impressed by their cousin’s new skill. “Aim for the joints or the lock rather than the middle!”

Anne nodded, took a deep breath, and slammed the sole of her foot squarely into the wood next to the handle. There was an awful ripping sound, and – yes! The door was loose!

Too full of adrenaline and fear to celebrate, they pushed the door open and fell out into the street, narrowly avoiding Mrs March’s strong hands, which tried to grab them from beyond the doorway.

“Run, run run run run!” George garbled, lifting Anne off the ground and dragging her towards the train station. Anne’s leg was a little wonky, but she wasn’t complaining so George spurred her to go faster.

“Quickly, Anne! The station master will help us!”

Thankfully, they were both very fast runners, and Anne was far too preoccupied to notice the pain in her right ankle. They reached the station twenty times quicker than they’d made the journey yesterday and burst through the doors.

But the station master was nowhere in sight!

“Quick, Anne, find a telephone. I’ll see if I can find him!” and with that, George ran through the archway to the platform.

Anne looked at the ticket booth and made a snap decision. Instead of spending the minute looking for the staff door, she clambered up onto the counter and wiggled through the gap under the window; thankfully it was already open as wide as it could go, and she had very little trouble getting through. She didn’t quite manage a graceful landing on the other side, however. The weight of her head and torso dragged the rest of her through the window and into a tangled heap on the floor.

It took her a moment to right herself, but as soon as she was up, she began frantically looking around for the telephone. 

There! She grabbed the receiver and dialled the number so fast it was already ringing by the time it hit her ear.

“Hello, Police. What is your emergency?”

With the ease of someone who has phoned the police any number of times before, she very clearly and professionally pinpointed the danger they were in and the crime that had taken place, leaving unnecessary details for later. She explained where she was, and the woman on the other end of the line told her to lock the door and stay on the line. “We’re sending someone over right away, stay out of sight if you can!”

Anne rushed to the door. The key was nowhere in sight, so she ran the bolt home and prayed it would be enough to keep anyone out. She picked up the receiver and the cradle and brought them both with her underneath the window. She listened for a moment, then reached up and quietly pulled the window down, turning the locking mechanism at the bottom. She was completely sealed in. Anyone who peered through the glass might see the wires for the phone, but it would have to do!

“I’ve done it, I’m locked in and hidden!”

“There’s a good girl. I’m going to keep talking but I need you to try and stay as quiet as possible. The envoy is on their way, they should be with you in fifteen minutes.”

“What about my cousin? I can’t leave them out on their own!” This had only just occurred to Anne; what if George came back but couldn’t get in and got caught because of her? Her breathing became laboured, and her voice was shaking. “Should- should I go get them?”

“No. We have to assume that they’re sensible enough to hide on their own steam. I’m going to take you through some breathing exercises, okay? Stay calm and keep hidden. You’re doing so well.”

Anne tried to listen, they were being so kind and comforting, and the breathing exercises really were helping. But she couldn’t stop thinking about George and what might be happening to them! She hoped they were alright!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I wasn't sure where I was going with this when I ended on a cliffhanger, but I sat down to write today and got so engrossed I finished this chapter and started the next! This chapter does contain detailed depictions of violence, injury, and blood, so take care of yourselves. I hope it was worth the wait!

As it happened, George was perfectly fine. For the moment, at least.

They had rushed onto the platform in their search for the station’s Master, but once again he was nowhere to be seen. The platform itself was decidedly bare of hiding spots, so, assuming that no trains would be running today, they jumped recklessly down onto the train tracks. They took a moment to catch their breath and picked a direction at random. 

Please, oh please be nearby! They begged as they ran.

“OI!” They heard a man shout from behind, and, assuming it was the March son, upped their pace until their legs were burning from traversing the uneven railway track at full sprint.

They didn’t get very far, however, before they heard heavy boots coming up fast behind them. They waited until the boots were right behind them and dove to the side, but no! They’d misjudged their timing! George felt a large, unnaturally hot hand wrap around the back of their neck and had to fight the instinct to go limp, screaming and shouting, kicking their legs trying to connect with anything as they were lifted off the ground.

“I’ll ‘ave no nasty little boys running around and breaking the law on my watch!” said a rough voice, shaking George as he spoke.

The Station Master! Thank goodness!

They gasped, and through shocked, scared, exhausted tears tried to explain.

“I am sorry, sir, but my cousin and I were being chased and we don’t know the area and I was looking for the station master, or an employee, anyone who could h – “

At this point, the man holding them shook them again, rattling their teeth and causing them to bite their tongue most painfully. They cried out in pain.

“Load of old tosh! I’ll get you sorted out, you see if I don’t!”

And with that, he began dragging George back along the railway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anne jumped, hearing a crash outside the office door. She wiped her eyes and breathed deeply, tying to stay calm.

She could hear footsteps coming around to the window above her, stopping to peer through. The woman on the other end of the telephone was still talking, reassuring Anne that help was on its way, the cars had been dispatched. 

Anne covered her mouth and nose, trying to hold back any sound that might want to escape her lips, squeezing her eyes shut.

After what felt like hours, whoever was outside the window moved away. 

Anne didn’t let herself relax; whoever it was was still too close for comfort. It sounded like they were heading towards the platform, towards George.

George! Oh, she hoped they had found help by now! What if they needed more time?

Anne bit her lip. She had to do something! Distract them, somehow; keep them from getting to George. Shaking, she placed the receiver on the floor with the woman’s voice still spilling out of it, sounding ever so much louder than it should be.

Carefully, oh so carefully, she got her legs beneath her and, putting as little weight as possible on her wonky ankle, lifted herself off the floor until she was crouched behind the counter. She had to risk a look through the window before she moved; if anyone was still looking in, she would definitely be seen.

Slow and steady, she raised herself inch by inch away from the ground, straightening her legs bit by bit while keeping her head and torso low. Steeling herself, taking one more deep breath in case everything fell apart, she raised her head above the counter and look up at the window, straight into –

Nothing. No one was there; they’d gone. She dropped back down into a crouch, flooded with relief. She tilted her head back to stop the tears she could feel spilling over onto her cheeks, yet again. This never got easier.

She’d never been this alone before, though. It was worse, so much worse. George was out there, all alone, without even Timmy to help. The boys were far, far away and who knew how long it would take for the police to arrive. 

She had to do something; she was the only one who could. But she didn’t know what. She cast her eyes around the room again, looking for anything she’d missed which could be used as a weapon, or a distraction, or both.

Her eyes landed on a shelf she hadn’t noticed before up above the window. Maybe there was something up there? 

Creeping deeper into the room, she knew she would be fully visible now to anyone who looked over at the ticket office. She still couldn’t see what was on the shelf, so seeing as there wasn’t much point left in crouching, she stood up straight. 

At least I’ll be ready to move if anything happens, she thought as she finally managed to get a glimpse of the cricket bat and ball held up by a stand which had been right above her the entire time.

What a stroke of luck! Oh, but… the only way to reach it would be to climb up on the counter.

My legs will be fully visible, and I won’t be able to see anyone coming for me. She ran her hands through her hair and squeezed tight. Was it worth a try?

Yes. She thought, plainly. For George, it would be worth it. She wasn’t doing any more good locked in this room, the least she could do was cause some damage and maybe buy some more time.

Far more calmly and confidently than she ever thought she would have been capable of, she clambered up onto the counter. The corridor beyond the window was still empty.

Okay, she thought. Let’s do this, Anne. You can do this.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the window until her eyeline moved above it she raised herself up until she was standing fully erect. She wasn’t very tall, so the shelf was still above her head. 

I’ll have to be extra careful not to drop it, then.

She grabbed the handle with both hands and attempted to lift it off the pedestal it was resting on. The angle was awkward, but her arms were strong from the kickboxing lessons she’d been taking at school all term. The sport was new to the (almost) all-girl’s school, but it had been relatively popular among many of the students. George had skimmed over it, preferring to stick with cricket.

Anne knew George hadn’t really taken her seriously when she said she had joined and was training for the school team; sports had never been her strong suit, apart from maybe track based sports. She’d stuck with it, though, and had gotten quite good at it. What she really wished right now though was that she had George’s skill with a cricket bat!

I won’t be hitting a ball though, she reasoned. I’ll be aiming for something much larger and closer. She tried not to think about the time that Chrissy Harris had accidentally swung her book bag into Henrietta Stoneby’s face on the way to French. Anne had been standing nearby, and the crunch had been, well. Visceral. Worse had been the blood and, much later, the bruising. 

Henrietta wasn’t trying to hurt Chrissy. William March is definitely trying to hurt me! He deserves what he gets.

Anne was shocked at herself; she’d never considered violence an option before, not a real one. She didn’t think she was capable of thinking something so horrible so… coolly. 

Her ankle was having trouble keeping her up, and it began to wobble. She felt the back of her hand knock into something on the shelf, and realised too late that she’d done something very foolish; she’d stopped focusing on the task at hand. The deep red cricket ball fell right in front of her eyes, a signature scribbled in black briefly visible before it continued it’s descent. 

CRACK. 

It landed heavily on the polished counter and rolled off onto the floor. She heard a triumphant shout and running footsteps

“There you are you little witch!” came William’s muffled voice from the other side of the glass. 

Anne whimpered, but clutched the cricket bat tighter. It was still raised above her head, over the shelf. She would have to -

Suddenly, there was a smashing sound as she felt something heavy hit her injured leg. Before she could cry out, she felt hands grip her legs, pulling them out from beneath her and dragging her through the now shattered window. The backs of both her legs screamed in pain as they were raked across the jagged glass, sticking into the cuts and mercifully sparing the rest of her. 

She was too stunned by pain to shout, but she wasn’t so stunned that she couldn’t swing the bat. As her torso and head came through, her body still resting on the sill, she brought the bat crashing through what was left of the window down onto William’s left shoulder. 

He did cry out, but more in rage than pain. He let go of the leg held by his injured arm but used the other to drag her fully off the sill. Her back fell heavily to the floor, already slick with her blood, and she lost her grip on the bat. 

Not that she would have been able to use it; winded and bleeding, she could barely move as William grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her up, wrapping one forearm firmly around her neck. She gripped his harm with both hands to keep the weight off her throat as he reached down with his other hand to pick up the cricket bat.

She shook in time with him as he laughed quietly but manically.

He stilled and brought his mouth down to her ear. 

“Let’s find your little cousin, shall we?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George was getting angry. Why wouldn’t this man listen? They kept trying to explain, but every time they started speaking, he’d shake them roughly and they’d be forced to stop. 

The best they could do, they reasoned, was wait until they got to the platform. William would probably be there, and they doubted he’d do anything rash with another grown up around. They hoped Anne was safe! Perhaps she’d been able to call for help. Fingers crossed!

“Oi oi, Will! Who’ve you got there?” The man George assumed was the Station Master called out as they reached the station. George’s heart stopped. They shouldn’t have left Anne on her own! 

They wriggled around until the platform was in sight and stopped dead in fear.  
Anne was clutched in William’s arms, covered in blood. She looked conscious, but just barely. He was holding a cricket bat in his other hand. 

What? No. No, surely he wouldn’t…

George was frantic now, trying to get a better look. They couldn’t see any injuries, but the blood had to be coming from somewhere. If he’d hit her with that bat…

“He’s hurt my cousin! Please! I’m telling the truth, he tried to steal from us and, and –“

“That’s rich, coming from you! This little cow” William shook Anne, whose head lolled alarmingly. George went white “nicked your famous cricket bat, Kent! Tried to whack me over the head with it.”

“Well, now. Fancy that.” George notice that the man, Kent, didn’t sound shocked or concerned at all. “I caught this one running around on the tracks, trying to sabotage the electrics.”

“What?” George yelled. “Of course I wasn’t! You dirty rotten liar!”

“SHUT UP!” Kent roared, throwing George down onto the gravel. “What happened to that one’s legs, Will?”

Anne’s legs! George looked up and could see the backs of them now; they were torn to shreds and… was that glass? They tried to get up, but felt a boot up against their back, pushing them down.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, son. Bad enough that this girl got herself injured breaking into our ticket booth. That about what happened, William?”

“Yeah, Kent. I’d say it is.” The menace in William’s voice, coupled with the control in Kent’s was terrifying. 

They were trapped. George knew that if either one of them fought back they’d be in worse trouble; not that Anne looked like she had much more fight in her. And if they didn’t…

“We’ll lock them in the broom cupboard, get the police out here.”  
“I reckon this one already called the police, Kent. Speaking plainly, they know a little about what we’ve been planning.”

Planning? Had they been… planning to rob them and Anne?

No, that was silly. What did they have that was of any value? So, no. Not them. But the other people on the train?

George tried to remember if any of their fellow passengers yesterday had looked particularly wealthy. None sprang to mind, but something else was playing on their mind.

“You! You caused the rockslide!” 

Both men ignored them.

“It looks like this might have gone tits up, Will. Your family still good to cover an escape?” Kent asked.

“Yeah, they’re in. What do we do about these two though? I reckon we just get rid of ‘em, they’ve caused me plenty enough trouble.”

Kent didn’t get a chance to answer, because at that moment a large dusty-blonde blur crashed into him, knocking him off his feet. George felt the weight fall of their back and jumped up just in time to see Timmy – Timmy! Leap up onto the platform and charge straight towards William.

“Good boy, Timmy, good boy!” George whooped and cheered Timmy on as he careered into the brute holding Anne and sunk his teeth into the arm holding the bat.

“AAARGH!” Cried William, dropping Anne and desperately trying to pull away from the crazed dog.

Timmy had heard his George shout from the pile of rocks, where he’d been sat licking his scrapes, and had bolted towards the sound, all minor wounds forgotten. As he’d gotten closer he’d smelt blood, mixed with that same smell he’d found on the footprint he’d found before the rocks fell on him. 

He’d seen George lying on the ground with a big man standing on them! Well! He wasn’t having that! He’d ran straight at his other leg, tipping him over and off his George. He would have stopped to greet them, but Anne was in trouble too! His George was always the most important, but he was very fond of Anne. She was gentle and soft, and very good at scratching his ears!

She also wasn’t as helpless as she’d been pretending to be. The cuts on the backs of her legs didn’t seem to be bleeding as much now; apparently, they weren’t as deep as she’d first assumed. It still hurt when she tried to stand on them though, so instead she crawled towards the bat, avoiding William as he attempted to shake Timmy off his arm.

Spurred on by George’s shouts of encouragement, she picked up the bat and, fighting through the pain, rose and stood up straight.

“Call Tim off George!” her voice shaking only slightly.

“Timothy! Drop it!”

Timmy did drop it, but stayed put between the man and Anne, growling all the while.

William clutched at his arm. He looked towards Kent who was still lying on the ground, seemingly unconscious. He looked back at the girl and the dog.

“I think you’d better go.” Anne said, raising the bat higher. Her heart was beating faster than a mouse, and she was filled to the brim with pure adrenaline.

George watched on in awe as a man easily three times Anne’s size and weight took their cousin in. Angry, scared, bloody, and wielding a cricket bat half as long as she was. 

He did what George would have done; turned on his heels and ran for the exit.


End file.
